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bre-meister · 4 years

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Grandpa Barry

a not so short fluffy one-shot based off of an old offhanded comment by @onehelluvafirstdate that kinda just stuck with me

Holidays for the Butron’s had become more than just family affairs. For several years prior to the events at the Spencer Mansion, the Redfield siblings had begun to join them for these types of events after their parent’s deaths. However, after the mansion incident, the large scale outbreak that was Racoon City, and the countless other BOW incidents that had occurred since family holidays had extended well past just the family.

Thanksgivings and Christmases and Fourth of July’s had become celebrations of more than just that particular holiday. They were a celebration of another year lived, another attack survived, and sometimes, celebrations of another survivor added to their small but growing group of what they considered to be extended family.

This particular Thanksgiving was no different and so, the Burtons found themselves preparing to host their extended family for dinner, drinks, and overall good times. Not everyone was always able to attend - their common line of work never really took holidays into consideration - but this year they’re gearing up for an unusually good turnout.

Chris arrives first, as always. Early in order to help set up. The man can’t cook for shit so he brings drinks - both alcoholic and non-alcoholic - for his contribution to the large meal. Rebecca is next along with Sherry and Jake. Quite frankly, Barry was surprised they’ ed convinced the kid to come but, at the same time, the older man was fairly sure Jake would do anything for Sherry if she just asked. The three had brought different desserts that were most probably store-bought. Barry could already see Rebecca’s hand slowly drifting up to the pair of dog tags that hung around her neck - it would become more evident as the night wore on.

Next are Jill and Carlos, the latter of which has just been a recent addition to these types of celebrations despite having known Jill since Racoon. They arrive with a dish that smells heavenly and was most definitely prepared by Carlos. Jill, like Chris, was poorly adept in the kitchen.

Last to arrive was Leon and Claire along with their ever-growing brood. Isabelle seemed to be barley restraining herself, a ball of excitement ready to burst at the seams.

“Hi, Grandpa Barry!”

Barry smiled at the little girl. She had been calling him ‘Grandpa” for as long as he could remember and, seeing as the kid had no real grandparents in her life, he and his wife had taken on the pseudo roll eagerly.

“Hey kid,” Barry ruffled her hair, “how’s it going?”

“Great!” she giggled. Pleasantries out of the way, Isabelle moved on to her main prerogative,

“Are Sherry and Jake here yet?”

For some reason, Izzy had taken quite the shining to her older sister’s new boy toy. Jake, for his part, seemed to have begrudgingly accepted his newfound role as ‘big brother’ to the Kennedy kid. Barry supposed that Izzy had never really given him a choice.

“They are. In fact, you guys are the last to get here.”

Isabelle pouted before turning to her mother who had been hanging up their coats by the door.

“I told you, Mamma, we’re always late.”

“We’re not late Izzy. Dinner isn’t anywhere near ready yet so you have plenty of time to play with Sherry and Jake.”

Izzy harrumphed before running off to the living room where she assumed everyone else would be. Claire sighed before turning to their host.

“Hey, Barry.” She smiled and accepted the hug that Barry was offering her. She registered Leon scolding Izzy for not taking her shoes off before running further into the house.

“Leon.” Barry moved on to the younger man, waving at little Olivia who was snuggled up in her Daddy’s arms.

“Barry.”

This was usually how things were. The two would act aloof until Claire has moved out of earshot and Barry could well and truly find out how Leon was doing.

“Kathy is in the kitchen, said to send you in once you got here.”

“Oh, of course.” Claire looked between the two men and pretended not to know what was going on. She pecked Leon on the lips and tickled Olivia’s belly before heading towards the kitchen to help Kathy with the dinner.

“Sorry, we didn’t bring anything this year. Claire’s had her hands full with her job and the girls while I was gone and since I got back a few days ago things have been a little out of whack.” Leon chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” God, Barry thought, am I really so old that I’m calling everyone kid?

“Anyway,” Barry said, “how’s the family life treating ya?”

Leon knew Barry wasn’t really asking about the ‘family life’. But it was just easier sometimes to talk in innuendos and code words what with little ears around. In this case, the family life really meant the sober life. The special agent looked down at a specific pair of little ears before answering. Liv was currently clinging to Leon like her life depended on it. Both girls were always a little clingy when he returned from long missions but Liv tended to take the term ‘Daddy’s girl’ to a new level.

The three-year-old had only let go of the man long enough for both of them to take their coats off. What Barry noticed though, was that Leon seemed to be holding on to Olivia just as desperately.

“Family life is... It’s ah, a little hard sometimes. But I’d never go back.”

Barry smiled but nodded. Motioning for Leon to follow, he made his way into the living room to join everyone else.

“Hi, Livy!” Moira said, waving enthusiastically at the little girl.

“Hi,” Liv said in a small, quiet voice

“Come play with us!” Natalia called from where she and Moira were stationed in front of a dollhouse.

Barry’s adopted daughter loved playing with Olivia whenever she got the chance. She once told him that it was because she had fun playing with ‘babies’ which, Barry thought was a little funny considering that, at only eleven, Barry still very much saw Natalia as barely more than a baby himself. He supposed he should work on that, the girls as growing up every day - thriving, even, in a stable environment with what is probably the closest to a normal life she’d ever had.

Olivia shook her head at Natalia’s invitation to play. Instead, she buried her head even further in her father’s shoulder.

“Common Liv, we have a special doll just for you.” This time it was Moira trying to do the convincing, even going as far as to use a sing-song voice.

All she garnered was another head shake.

“I’m sure your sister is having a lot of fun with Sherry and Jake,” Barry motioned to where the three were making various buildings and figures out of Leggos, “I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

“Jake could use some help over here Liv, I think you should come show him how its done.” Sherry chimed in.

“What? No I -” Jake’s cry of indignation was cut off by Sherry’s elbow to his side. “ I’m real lost here, Oliva. Sherry’s right.”

“ I stay with Daddy.”

A round of soft laughter went through the room at that. Barry shared a knowing look with his wife before holding his arms out to the little girl who looked at him skeptically,

“Common sweetie. I’m sure you’ve been attached your Daddy since he’s been back. Why don’t you spend some time with Grandpa for a bit? I feel like I haven’t seen your cute little face in ages!”

Olivia didn’t say anything. Instead, she just looked at Barry in that way kids were so good at like he was spewing a load of fresh bullshit.

“It’s fine Barry.” Leon’s response saw Olivia snuggles back into her father, content to be in his arms.

“Well, she can’t stay with you forever kid, gotta learn sometime - both of you. Why not now when you won’t be any further than a room away.”

“I’m with you Barry, I tell Leon all the time he coddles her too much,” Claire said. From her spot in the kitchen, she had a clear view of what was going on in the living room.

“Is it really coddling though? I was gone for almost two weeks.” Leon’s defense was weak sounding.

“And we both know you could be gone longer at the drop of a hat. That’s just the life we live and when she refuses to be put down and you refuse to put her down, you make my life harder when Daddy inevitably has to leave again. Barry’s still got my vote. She’s gotta learn.”

“Common, Chris, Carlos, if you guys were in my situation you’re telling me you guys wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“ Sorry bro, as much as I love to disagree with my sister, she’s kinda right.” Chris’s reply was definitely not what Leon was looking for so the blonde man turned to Carlos for his support.

“Look man, I’d be the first to admit that if I ever had kids it would be hard for me to ever deny them anything.” Leon lit up at that and everyone else pretended to ignore the quick look Carlos shot Jill as he finished his statement.

“But,” Leon seemed to visibly deflate as Carlos continued, already knowing where this was going - not in his favor “ that doesn’t mean they aren’t right.”

“Thank you!” Claire interjected.

“Well, I think it’s cute.” Rebecca proudly stated.

At that Caire stepped fully out of the kitchen and pointed a pair of tongs at Rebecca who had been nursing a glass of something strong by the fireplace.

“You say that now. Wait until you find someone and have a few kids of your own. As cute as it is, your tune will change real quick.”

Rebecca let out a little laugh as Claire returned to the kitchen but it sounded a little forced, hand drifting back up to the dog tags around her neck.

“Hand her over, Leon. She’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Leon did as he was told. Olivia did not go quietly, the beginnings of a tantrum becoming evident as she was handed off to her ��grandpa’.

“Oh stop acting up baby girl, you’re just fine!” Claire’s voice carried sweet but stern from the kitchen.

Olivia quieted at her mother’s words but still hadn’t silenced her whimpers. Leon looked about ready to cave.

“I have three kids Leon and more years of experience. Trust me, I’ve got this. Now, Livy and I are gonna go read a nice story and I’m sure Kathy and Claire could use some help.” Barry said with a smile.

“ Leon, could be a dear and go bring the cooler in from the garage?”

“Of course Kathy.”

“Oh, you might need some help. It’s not exactly small and Barry already put the ice and some drinks in.”

“I got you.” Carlos squeezed Leon’s shoulder as he passed, effectively turning the man away from Olivia and punching him in the direction of the garage.

“Thanks, boys!” Kathy called after them.

Olivia got a little angsty once Leon was out of her sights but soon Barry had her thoughts away from her missing Daddy and onto The Cat in the Hat. They got through three more books - Olivia entranced by the pictures in on each page - before eventually going off to color with Polly who had brought out some of her colored pencils, crayons, and old coloring books.

Olivia even convinced her Uncle Chris to come color with her ( and he’d never admit it to Leon but, when those large blue eyes were turned on him Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to say no).

When Claire and Kathy called that dinner was ready to be served Leon took that as his cue that ‘separation’ time was over. He collected Izzy first, watching to make sure to washed-up properly before helping her to make a plate.

“ Do you want ham or turkey, Princess?”

“ Ham, please. Daddy, I don’t want green beans.” Isabelle made a face as Leon scooped some onto the plate, ignoring her protest.

“ I know, but remember what we talked about?”

Isabelle sighed, “No green beans, no desert.” The girl had a sweet tooth that could rival her mother’s and her parents tended to use that to their advantage.

Leon chuckled, bringing the plate over to the smaller table just to the side of the main one in the dining room. Their found family was getting too big for everyone to sit at the dining table, so they had resorted to setting up a table for the youngest of the group to sit.

Izzy seemed to accept her fate as she sat Jake at the table, giggling as he too joked about being forced to eat his vegetables in return for dessert. Sherry always volunteered to sit with the kiddos along with Moira and Polly and wherever Sherry went, Jake went. Leon shot the kid a look, it seemed that two of his girls had taken quite a shining to him and it was safe to say that he wasn’t too pleased with it. Rationally, he knew that Sherry was old enough to make her own decisions and Izzy most likely just had a silly schoolgirl crush that would go away with time. But Leon didn’t want to think rationally right now.

He was interrupted from his thoughts as he heard Claire playfully inspecting Olivia’s hands.

“Did you get ‘em all clean, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Chris help me!”

“Did he sing you your song?” Claire asked teasingly. Olivia just giggled while nodding her head yes.

“He did, did he?” Claire sent a shit-eating grin to her brother who quickly excused himself to the table.

“You do it better, Mommy.” Claire laughed before kissing her little girl’s bleach blonde hair. Leon was convinced it would darken over time, just like his had.

“Come here little bug, let’s get you something to eat.”

Leon helped Liv just as he had with Izzy. Once she’d had all she wanted on her plate, as well as some vegetables she didn’t, he made to set her up next to her sister at the other table.

“Daddy, no!”

Leon was prepared for this, it happened every time. Liv wouldn’t want to sit with the other kids, no, she always much rather stay with her Daddy. So, safe to say he was more than taken aback by Livy’s next words.

“ I sit with Grandpa.”

It was as if the whole room went silent at Olivia’s request, even Izzy stopped her laughing and was looking at her little sister with a shocked expression.

“ I - um… you’d have to ask Grandpa.”

Olivia wasted no time running over to Barry where he sat at the head of the table.

“Grandpa, I sit with you?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Barry lifted the little girl onto her lap. She settled in with a little giggle and Leon felt his heart both swell and break at the sound. This was what they were trying to achieve the whole night, right? He voiced such out loud when Claire came over to ask if he was ok.

“Ya but, it doesn’t mean it would hurt any less. That was a hard reject, Kennedy.” Jill said.

“Jill.” Carlos gently admonished.

“What? Are we all just supposed to sit here and pretend like that didn’t just happen? I mean, no offense to you Leon but that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all night.” Jill laughed again.

“You know Jill, I never took you as one to languish in someone else’s pain. Hats off to you.”

Jill raised her wine glass to Jake in acknowledgment of his comment. Claire took Liv’s plate out of Leon’s hand and placed it in front of the little girl. She then began to make up another one with all of Leon’s favorites.

Putting down the plate in front of an empty chair she motioned for Leon to come and sit.

“Why don’t you come eat something, honey.”

Leon could tell that even Claire felt a little bad for him - she only calls him ‘honey’ when she does. She even kissed his cheek as he pulled a chair out for her before sitting down like she’d suggested.

“It’s fine,” he lied, “I don’t get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this.”

“If he’s acting this way now imagine how he’ll act once they start dating.” Rebecca whisper yelled to Chris who was seated next to her.

Chris almost choked on his drink, laughing at the image of Leon’s suffering.

“Hey, he hasn’t said anything about Jake yet!” Sherry’s attempt at defending Leon was not appreciated by Jake who shot her a scathing look.

“Only because I haven’t had the chance yet. It’s coming, Shelly.” Leon turned to look at the two adults in question as he said it.

Sherry blushed - whether, from the use of his old nickname for her or from the thinly veiled threat, he wasn’t exactly sure. Jake let out a withered sigh before turning back to his food. Eventually, everyone else took pity on Leon’s poor soul and did the same. That, or they just got tired of making fun of him - with people like these for family one never could be too sure.

Dinner continued with much merriment; teasing abounded but not all at the expense of Leon. Once the word was out that Rebeca had been curbing advances from several men she had met at her new job the table was divided - some teasing and encouraging her to go for it, others defending that she didn’t have to. By the end of it, the dog tags had ended back up in her hands. Rebecca then flipped it on the perpetually single Chris who, in turn, threw Jill and Carlos under the bus. The friendly banter then shifted to their undefined relationship status. All the while laughter continuously flowed from the table along with the occasional interjection from Moira, Polly, or Sherry. Jake mainly sticking to entertaining the kids.

By the end of the night, Leon found himself with an arm around Claire’s shoulders and Livy sitting in his lap - two out of three of his girls snuggled up against his chest, still seated at the table. Olivia had migrated back to her Daddy when she had started to get tired and Leon would be lying if he said it hadn’t made him feel miles better. Number three wasn’t far behind.

“Daddy, are we going home soon?”

Leon could see the tiredness almost radiating off of his daughter. Izzy had run off her sugar high from dessert and looked like she was ready to drop right there in front of him.

“Soon, Princess.” he shifted Livy in his lap to make room for Izzy.

It always took a little finagling to fit both Isabelle and Olivia on his lap but, somehow, they always seemed to make a way. Izzy climbed up and Leon felt content - belly full of good food, surrounded by family and good conversation, and most importantly, his little family wrapped safely in his arms.

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Chris, Carlos, and Jill began to clear the table. They made their way to the kitchen with the intent to clean up and give Kathy a break since she and Claire were the main ones who set everything up.

Leon could hear his wife sigh,

“It’s late. We should get the girls home.” except she made no move to do that, instead she buried her face in his neck and took in a deep breath letting out an even deeper sigh.

Eventually, Izzy began softly snoring. Leon and Claire knew they couldn’t put off heading home any longer - the drive wasn’t long but it wasn’t exactly short either and the girls should be sleeping in their own beds where it was more comfortable.

Between the two of them, they were able to get the girls into their shoes and jackets and then into their car seats with minimal trouble. They said their goodbyes outside by the car. Promises to do it again for Christmas were made but they were all taken with a grain of salt. One never knew when Leon would be called away on a mission or when Claire would be needed for some Terrasave function or clean-up job.

“I hope you enjoy being ‘grandpa’ to those cute little girls ‘cause you sure aren’t getting any grandkids from me anytime soon.”

“Good.”

Barry turned away from watching Claire and Leon drive away to look down at his oldest daughter. She looked back up at him. All was silent for a moment until the two broke out into easy laughter. He guided her back into the house, closing the door and effectively blocking the cold out.

As Barry held his own daughter close he looked around at everyone left. Natalia sleeping on the couch, Sherry and Jake whispering in a not-so secluded corner. Rebecca had joined the cleanup crew in the kitchen after having seen off the Kennedy clan. His eyes met his wife’s who was still seated at the table enjoying a slice of pie with Polly.

Barry knew that in the world they lived in, one couldn’t be certain of many things. But, he also knew that he could be certain of this - family wasn’t just defined by blood. Barry didn’t know what the future held, no one did. What they did know, however, was that their family was always changing - in size and look. But, they would always be there, especially on holidays like this, to remind one another that they were alive, that they had all made it through another year. They would be there to remind each other that there was still love and kindness in this dark world worth fighting for, and they did it in what seemed like the easiest, most simple way - by loving each other.

#Cleon #Cleon fic #cleon babies #resident evil #brief appearance of Valenveira #My writing #i had to write some fluff so I could write the angst later #Thanks to everyone in the discord for the great headcannons

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reylotrashcompactor · 7 years

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Reflektor, Chapter 5: The Knights of Ren

TITLE: Reflektor

CHAPTER NUMBER: 5/?

RATING: E (previously M), language, eventual sexual content, graphic depictions of violence

NOTES/WARNINGS: An update! I’m so thrilled to be getting back to this story! I do hope to be doing so more regularly now, and I do intend to finish this story before Episode VIII.

Please note that the rating have been upped to E from M. The graphic depictions of violence are, indeed, graphic.

A HUGE thank you to @southsidestory for making this chapter the best it could be.

Please take a moment to let me know what you think! I appreciate any and all feedback!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Kylo Ren took a quick inventory of his injuries and bit his cheek against grinning at the sheer number. He’d expected her to land a hit or two, but she’d broken bone. She’d drawn blood.

He looked across the room to her, and that inclination to smile dissipated. He’d broken more bones, if her limp hand and her favored leg were anything to go off of. He’d drawn a considerable amount more blood as well, as he watched it drool thickly from the corner of her lip. He’d probably knocked loose some molars in one of his defensive strikes.

“Come,” he said as he strode over to her, the sharp ache in his side doing nothing to slow his purposeful steps. “We’ll go to the med bay and get you healed.”

She nodded curtly, which he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure what he had been anticipating, but her quiet acceptance of medical attention was not it. He walked past her, but turned back when he heard her hiss of pain. She was limping after him, which was impressive given the state of her ankle. He couldn’t see it clearly in her training boots, but even disguised by thick leather, he could see it was bent in an unnatural angle.

Kylo said nothing as he walked back to her and brusquely scooped her into his arms. She squawked in surprise, and he did smile at that. It was a completely undignified noise, and one that spoke more of her humanity than her broken bones and bleeding face. Humanity was something he’d been sorely lacking in recent years, and he found that he welcomed hers.

She squirmed in his arms, though she didn’t attempt to get down. She was in no condition to walk, and he was glad that her stubborn nature didn’t extend to needless pain. He walked briskly down the long hallway to where the med droids and staff were stationed. Their faces were twisted in shock as they turned to face Kylo and Rey when he swiped open the door, and he glanced down at the girl in his arms. Surely she didn’t look that beaten.

He set her down on the nearest bed and began barking orders for her care. A waist-deep bacta bath for her ankle and hand, then an examination of her teeth and jaw. He was half tempted to order that they get her completely back to new, but she’d learn little without a few aches and pains to fight through.

He turned to leave but her voice stopped him as he was stepping out the door.

“No.”

He sighed and turned back to her. Perhaps she was stubborn enough to think suffering the unaided healing process of multiple fractured bones was appropriate.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” he asked, his voice droll.

She sat up in the bed, wincing and cursing as she used her hand to help settle her weight. “I won’t get healed unless you do too, Kylo.”

There was another gasp from the closest med nurse and Kylo gritted his teeth at the sound. The girl was trying his patience, addressing him so informally in front of others. “I don’t need healing,” he said, glaring hard at her. “Don’t be stupid, Rey.”

Her simple name had less of an impact than his had, but he tried to inject the hurt of having nothing but one name and no legacy into the lone syllable.

“You do,” Rey shot back. She glanced at the nurse, standing with a syringe held limply in his gloved hand. “Look at his face and you can see that he does.”

It was then that Kylo realized. His mask. It was still lying abandoned on the floor of the training arena. He’d forgotten to place it back on his head in his haste to get Rey seen after.

He’d never done that since he’d first donned the mantle of Kylo Ren--simply forgotten to place the thing back on his head. The death of Han Solo had been the only other event that had distracted him to that point.

The quivering nurse hadn’t been gaping at Rey, he’d been gaping at Kylo.

Rey turned to Kylo again, triumph in her eyes. “I won’t let them fix me unless you stay and get fixed too,” she said again. She left the Kylo unspoken, but it rang through the room nonetheless. He glared at her, leaning into the motion when he knew that she could see his face entirely. She glared back, then attempted to get off the narrow cot.

“I told you not to be stupid,” he said, and she ignored him.

“If you think my injuries are grave enough to be magicked away with this--” she flapped her hand around the room, “--shit, then yours are too.” It hadn’t occurred to him until just then that she’d likely never known more than expired packages of bacta ointment and plasters for her past injuries.

He paused a moment longer, taking another step toward the door, and then he saw it: the smallest twinge of fear. He glanced around the room, trying to see it from Rey’s perspective. Hard white machinery and sharp-looking implements on trays. Sickly looking vats of liquid--which she was intended to sit in--and the smell of deadly cleanliness. The kind of clean that leaves nothing living, good or bad.

He nodded and walked past the nurse to sit, not lie, on the bed next to Rey’s. “I’ll stay,” he said. “Will you please lie down now and stop causing a scene?”

She nodded, not letting her relief show, but he sensed it nonetheless.

Rey was developing a bit of a pattern. She would start each morning with a knock on Kylo’s door--more of a kick, really--two plates of food in hand. He stupidly thought they were both for her the first morning she did so, and wasn’t sure why she wanted to eat her food in his rooms. But she left the other plate untouched, looking meaningfully to him.

“If you want something, you are going to have to say so,” he’d said. “I only read minds when it suits my needs, not the needs of others.”

“You should eat,” she had answered in a bored voice.

He did eat. A person didn’t get to his size and strength by not eating. But he didn’t eat hot food in a variety of tempting flavors or sauces. He had cold, protein infused distillates with calories and nutrients perfectly calculated for his training schedule. It was faster and more efficient that way, though not terribly enjoyable.

He ignored her offer of food, and she eventually ate most of his share anyway, before they left for the training arena. They took their second meal there, then would end the day in the med bay, repairing what bones had been shattered. He left off her ankles so she could walk on her own, and she in turn refrained from knocking his helmet from his shoulders.

These were the only mercies given. Every morning she greeted him with two plates of food and purpled eyes or black, split fingernails, or scabbed and swollen lips. Or some combination of these and others. His injuries were almost as numerous, but more carefully concealed.

It was her nightly ritual that most unbalanced Kylo. He could only assume that she ate in her own rooms, but then, after, she would knock on the door with a neat bundle of clothes in her arms and walk straight past him to his ‘fresher when he swiped the door open.

As if testing his resolve, or his patience, she took him up on his foolish offer of his bathtub and indulged in long, hot soaks every single night. Sometimes, on days she did particularly well on the training mats--like today, when she finally leaned into that swing like he’d been goading her to do for weeks, cracking his sternum and calling their lesson short to shuffle him to a bacta tank--she sang. They weren’t particularly joyful songs, or songs of victory or celebration. He wondered absently, as he scrolled through his holopad to the maudlin warble of her surprisingly deep voice, whether she even knew any happy songs. Jakku didn’t seem the place to learn them.

It was obscenely intimate, this thing she did. Singing while naked in his bathtub, the door just the slightest bit ajar. He knew that open door wasn’t an invitation. She barely spoke to him except to curse him when he landed a blow while sparring. More than likely, it was a taunt. A callback to her first night on this planet, when he’d invaded her privacy deliberately and made his first foolish offer to her. He tried not to think of that night, of her long body strung up for him like some macabre gift. He tried even harder to not think of what came after, of her naked in his ‘fresher, then barefooted in ill-fitting clothes, smelling like his soap.

But she insisted on reenacting that part of the night over and over--though her clothes fit better now.

He could withstand the strange breakfasts; he’d even eaten some of what she offered him this past morning--red-yolked eggs over hot buttered bread. He could allow himself to be stitched up at the end of the day at her insistence. He could even tolerate the bathing and singing within earshot, so long as he had enough intelligence to sift through on his holopad.

But the moment she stepped out at the end of it all, skin flush, hair damp, those narrow feet that were shades paler than any other part of her body he’d yet seen--this moment of stillness that she presented him with, over and over, as if waiting for...something--it threatened to undo him. He’d been wound so tight for so many years, he feared if he unraveled now, he wouldn’t know what he’d expose from beneath.

So when she stood in front of him, once again smelling of his soap and somehow looking warm to the touch, he fractured just a bit.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, his voice sharper than he meant.

She tilted her head at him. “Do what?”

He scoffed at her and rubbed a hand absently over the scar at his cheek. “You know what. This--” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the refresher. “All this,” he said, his hand now motioning to where she would soon be sitting in several hours’ time, a hot breakfast set before her on his small table. “We’re not--I’m not--”

Her brow crinkled in apparent confusion. “You’re all I’ve got, you know? This--” she exaggerated his motion to the ‘fresher and table, “All this? This is it for me. You said so. As of now, you are my entire universe, Kylo Ren. I’m just trying to figure out how to live in it.” She fidgeted with the ends of her wet hair, but didn’t look away from him.

There was a pulse in him, some mad compulsion to take a step toward her. Touch that still bath-hot skin and show her exactly how to live here. He ground the thought painfully from his mind, unsure how it even wormed its way there in the first place.

“That’s unacceptable,” he said after a moment of furious silence. He wasn’t sure if he meant her declaration, or his strange want of it. “Tomorrow, then. I’ll assemble my Knights and you’ll expand your universe, or die in the attempt.”

Something passed over her face. A wavering of...fear? Confidence? Certainty? It was gone before he could grasp it, translate that widening of eyes and tightening of lips into an emotion he could use.

“Wonderful,” she bit out before brushing past him to the door. He sucked in a breath at the contact and whirled to watch her leave. Her skin was flame-hot, even through his clothes and hers, and she had no reason to bump into him like that other than so he could know it first hand.

Kylo didn’t expect her to show up the next morning with her usual offering of food, but she did. She was always silent in the mornings, but her quiet was more present today. She ate more slowly as well, with less enthusiasm. This struck him the most: Rey was always excited for her next meal.

He sat and ate with her at this realization, not just picking at what she brought, but eating the entire tray of food. His stomach felt uncomfortable and tight after, but the shadow in her eyes seemed to lessen.

“There are a few hours left before the Knights are set to assemble, if you’d like--”

“Let’s train,” she said, interrupting his words. She didn’t meet his eyes.

He had been about to offer her a few more hours of rest before--before. But if training was what she wanted for distraction, he would not deny her that.

He expected nervous questions of what was to come, or at least less passionate movements and forms in their sparring. He received neither, and though he worked to not injure her before her looming match, she did not reserve her energy at all. It worried him, if he was honest. She would be exhausted when the time came for her to fight. He did not care to think on her reasoning for this.

He caught sight of the wall clock and released a pulse of the Force to send her sprawling to her back. “Enough. They are coming.”

She rolled nimbly to her knees then jumped to her feet, her chest heaving and sweat gathered on her brow.

Kylo Ren felt cold.

He sensed his Knights before he saw them, the warm prickling of his skin and the taste and smell of ozone--as if in the wake of a lightning strike. They filed into the arena, and he watched Rey watching them. Theirs was not a silent parade, their mismatched armor and strange weaponry clanking in the echoing room. Her eyes flashed from one to the next, sharp and assessing. Pride twinged in him at her keen scavenger senses, weighing his soldiers like so much refuse, looking for the pieces most--or least--valuable. Even without his explanation, she seemed to understand, weighing each of them up as potential opponents.

The Knights formed a crude line, their disparate heights and girths united by their black garb, looking like the serrated teeth of a rusted blade. The air hummed in a way that was both familiar and foreign. He tasted the signature of each of his soldiers, but theirs was seasoned with Rey’s energy--corybantic and astringent. She was afraid, though the hard set of her lips would not have him know it. He sensed it, however, in the percussive waves that radiated from her. His Force sensitive Knights sensed it, too.

It was with a bitter sort of certainty that he began to entertain the imminence of Rey’s death.

He approached her and almost laid a hand at her shoulder. It hovered a moment, out of her sight, before he lowered it to his side. “You will pick your Knight, Rey.”

She nodded sharply, those eyes still darting from one Knight to the next.

“Then, you will fight. Whomever lives will then fill that vacant place in line. Do you understand?”

He heard her heartbeat. He smelled the acrid scent of her sweat. And most of all, he felt her utter fatigue as if it were his own. He wanted to turn her to him and shake her shoulders. He wanted to look at her without his mask and speak to her without the filter of his modulator. You are about to die, you foolish girl! Do you not understand this?

As if answering his unspoken thoughts rather than his words, she said: “I understand.”

She gripped her weighted staff in two hands and approached the line of Knights. She walked from one end of the line to the other, slowly. Keenly. Most of the Knights were taller than her, some near the same height. They all outweighed her, weeks of proper nourishment notwithstanding. And they were all fresh, whereas she had trained like a fool with a deathwish until just a few moments prior.

She made another slow pass and paused before the largest of the Knights, the only taller still than Kylo himself, and he thought he felt his heart stop. No. Surely not.

Rey roughly prodded Esenn Ren in the shoulder with her staff, then took her place on the mat. The enormous Knight stepped from his place in line, his hand reaching for the wicked black blade slung across his back. I should stop this, Kylo thought as Esenn rolled out his neck opposite her. I have the power to stop this.

But as Rey raised her weapon and the Knight opposite her did the same, he felt as if he were being held back from this insane notion by an invisible hand.

He could only watch the subtle shifting of Rey's weight, and then her opening attack.

She will die, he found himself thinking again. She was brazen and fought as if he'd not been ruthlessly training her for weeks. She did not use her opponent's size against him; she did not guard her middle. She did not do anything he'd taught her to do, acting in stupid, naïve terror instead. So when that black, painfully dull blade swung with sickening force down at Rey, Kylo was not at all surprised to hear it thunk dully into Rey’s side. Esenn did not keep his blade sharp--with his strength, he didn’t need to, and a dull blade ensured that his enemies would feel the most pain when he landed a blow--and even so, it sank several inches into her unguarded side. The only thing that had likely stopped it from cleaving her in two was the grotesque armor of her ribcage.

Rey made a sound he could live his whole life without hearing again, like a gurgled wheeze, and swung with surprising nimbleness from Esenn. Blood spattered across the mat as she did, sounding like the gentle, gruesome fall of rain in the too-quiet room. She panted, uneven, and Kylo wondered if the blow had knicked her lung.

He watched her steadily, determined to see her as she died. Something hard and perverse wanted to watch the light in her eyes burn until the moment it was snuffed. He did not want her to die, but he also did not want to miss her death’s arrival. Her eyes darted to his mask for the barest of moments, and he felt the air siphon painfully from his chest, as if she were filling her ruined lung with the air from his. The room’s temperature seemed to drop, and, suddenly, she drew. She absorbed. The floor seemed to drop from beneath his feet as the axis of the galaxy shifted. Rey ground her clenched fist into the gore at her side and let out a primal, vicious snarl as she gathered the Dark lingering in the depths of each Knight of Ren.

It was over in a matter of seconds.

She charged at the Knight and Kylo watched in numb amazement as she swung her staff, not at his neck or at his side, but at Esenn’s weapon wielding hand. There was the recognizable crunch of bone, and her hand shot out to catch the dropped weapon. She whirled, flinging away the blade and using the staff to knock the Knight’s feet from beneath him. Another crack of bone as his ankle snapped, and Rey straddled the waist of the fallen warrior and brought down her staff in an exact imitation of Kylo’s first cruel, painful lesson to her on these mats. Kylo had been wielding a saber, meant for this stabbing motion, but Rey persisted nonetheless, driving the blunt end of her staff into Esenn’s neck. It was ugly, though it was mercifully quick. The Knight twitched only once under her, a spray of dark red blood marking Rey’s neck: a morbid imitation of her own death blow to Esenn.

Her painfully uneven breathing continued as she stared down at the dead thing beneath her, and Kylo Ren felt his stomach churn.

Rey was not dead. It was not Rey that lay bleeding on the floor. She was to be a part of this thing he had helped to create, and she had earned her place more brilliantly, more violently, than any of the other fighters in this room. Never had a Placing Match taken so little time, and never after so grave an injury to its victor.

Rey did not stand up, her body looking impossibly small as it bent over Esenn. Her blood dripped onto the body in a stream that would soon prove dangerous. But there was a ceremony to complete before she saw the inside of a med bay. He gave her one more moment to gaze down at what she’d done before he spoke.

“Take his helmet.”

He expected her to glance up at him, appalled. He expected her to recoil, to do anything that would reveal her true purpose here, her true mission. The girl called Rey could not be as fallen as he.

But she tugged the helmet from Esenn’s head, revealing the blue skin of the Chiss to Kylo for the first time in years. He’d aged significantly since Kylo had last seen his face, and there was utter pain written in the fine creases around his wide open eyes. His head was limp on his gored neck, and it thumped against the mat when Rey awkwardly pulled off the helmet. She stood and turned to Kylo, not waiting for his next command.

She fitted the mask on her own head and knelt to retrieve her staff. In a few short, purposeful strides, she placed herself in that gap left by the being she had just slaughtered.

As if this thing that she’d done was nothing to her.

Kylo Ren was grateful for his own mask in that moment. He knew not much could be hidden from his Knights, but at least he could save them the tormented look on his face. He had not wanted Rey’s death, but he thought that he might have wanted this even less.

An absurd thought occurred to him, and he wondered if she would sing in his bath tonight. If she had soul enough left to create something beautiful like those sad, damp melodies.

He approached her, stepping over Essen’s still bleeding body. He regarded her, taking slow measure of her from her feet to her newly acquired mask. It was long, and more beaten than even his. Two stripes of heavily chipped red paint streaked down from the glass visor.

“Welcome to the Knights of Ren.” There was a buzzing in the air as the other Knights exuded their own acceptance of her into their ranks.

“Welcome,” he said, nodding his head in slow admiration. “Kata Ren.”

He looked into that hard won mask.

Kylo would give anything to see her eyes.

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